


Love's Alchemy

by LaTerraNova



Series: The French Student [2]
Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Angst, Clairvoyance, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Switzerland, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaTerraNova/pseuds/LaTerraNova
Summary: Robert Walton went to Geneva with the intention of improving his French. And escaping his misery.But a chance hook-up with the heavily medicated town heretic has now got him involved in strange spiritual affairs and...falling in love?





	Love's Alchemy

When he awoke the next morning, Robert found himself in Victor’s arms, pulled up against his chest beneath the sheets. One of Victor’s hands trailed his back, as he whispered something in French into his hair. 

‘Good morning,’ Robert said. 

He felt a little unnerved, under the circumstances. Here he was, in a complete stranger’s bed, and the man seemed to have been making passionate love to his hair while he was asleep. 

He sat up and pulled the duvet off himself. Victor watched, curled on his side with his head resting on a bunched up bit of it. 

‘I’m going to get coffee,’ Robert told him awkwardly. ‘Je vais prendre un cafe.’ 

‘D’accord,’ Victor replied, clambering into a sitting position. He reached across to the bedside stand and pushed a couple of pills out of their packet, swallowing them dry. ‘Would you like to get breakfast?’ 

 

They sat opposite one another on the cafe terrace. It was early morning but the sun glistened off the buildings already anticipating the heat of the afternoon, and the air carried the cheerful scent of suncream. 

Robert noticed an immense exhaustion clouding Victor’s pale eyes as he stared down at his coffee. He smoked more than he ate, pushing a sort of omelette around the plate. 

‘What are your intentions with the day?’ He asked at length, disposing of the cigarette and taking a sip. He grimaced. ‘I hate coffee.’ 

‘Then why are you drinking it?’

‘Why not?’ He shrugged. 

‘Good a reason as any. No need to on my account, though. I’m not sure. I need to register at the class thing but then I’ve no plans. I’ll wander around -  look at the town, I suppose.’ 

‘I have a rowboat. We could go to the lake after that, if you want. Take it across to where the vineyards are.’ 

‘Okay,’ Robert nodded, ‘I’d like that.’ 

‘In pursuit of sublimity,’ Victor smiled slightly. One of his eyes caught the sun at the incline of his head and it became an alarming metallic shade. Robert blinked. 

It was then that they were interrupted. 

‘You know I won’t serve you!’ A woman shaped like a Dutch cheese came down from the steps, arms folded defensively. ‘I’m going to ask you to leave. Sorry,’ she glanced unapologetically at Robert.

Victor glanced up and then away in disgust. 

‘Do you really expect to be welcome here? After what you did?’

‘I didn’t know it was your business.’ 

‘Of course it is!’ 

‘I meant the cafe.’ 

‘Oh, yeah? Out. I’m asking - no, I’m telling - you nicely. Here’s the bill. Take your drinks with you.’ She slapped the plastic payment tray onto the table.

‘Have fat people nothing better to do than to open these places?’ Victor turned to Robert in amusement. He reached into his pocket and threw some money down, paying for the both of them. ‘It was a shit omelette anyway.’ 

‘An anorexic would say that.’ She eyed him up and down indiscreetly, mouth tightened in spite.

‘If I was I would still have to eat something,’ he replied sardonically. ‘And it certainly wouldn't be _that._ ’ He rose and Robert also stood up. 

‘New boyfriend? Don’t drown him like the last one.’ 

The last one? Robert found himself hit by a sudden fury. The last one?

 

As they fled down Rue Vallette Victor could feel Robert’s eyes boring into him. ‘I hardly know her problem at this point,’ he began by way of explanation. ‘A friend - shall we be discreet here and say friend - of hers has been creating all kinds of rumour. His sister worked for my family and a lot went wrong. She was dismissed, he was angry. They also heard about my work at the university.’ 

‘Religious fanatics?’ From the little that they had spoken on it, Robert knew that his work had involved corpses. 

‘No,’ he smiled. ‘Do you think we are all Calvinists, here? Just makes for some good controversy. But it’s mainly that, that his sister got in trouble with the law and he blames me for it. I didn’t even know her. I was in Munich when she was hired.’ 

With more jealousy than he would have liked, Robert was preoccupied with who Victor might have drowned. But he didn't dare ask. 

Instead, he linked arms with him and was surprised to find him stiffen. Only for half a second and then he appeared to lean into the touch. It kindled a faint protective instinct in Robert. 

 

They came to a large square and the cathedral loomed above them. ‘Saint Pierres,’ Victor commented. 

‘Isn’t it possible to climb the tower? Can we do that?’ 

‘If you want. I haven't been inside for years.’ 

 

But mid-way up the north tower Victor sat down, forcing Robert to an abrupt half in the thin spiral of a staircase. 

‘Are you alright?’ He asked, a little out of breath. 

‘Yes, fine,’ Victor said, but he put his hand to his head. He swallowed, as though in pain. ‘Did you know, a lot of Americans come here because it’s the beginnings of -’ 

‘I don’t care,’ Robert found himself snapping in a mix of worry and the jealousy that had not quite subsided. ‘Are you okay?’

Victor looked surprised. ‘Well you care for history, don’t you? It’s filled with energies, this place.’ He breathed in and rose slowly, reaching out to the walls to steady himself. 

‘Do you want to go back down?’ 

‘No.’ He closed his eyes and seemed to be concentrating hard. Then he turned abruptly and darted back up, Robert close behind him. 

 

On the balcony Robert watched him carefully, taken aback by this odd behaviour. Victor noticed and said, in a way that could be taken for a half-joke, ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ His hands were shaking and he lit a cigarette distractedly. 

‘You can’t smoke up here,’ an official barked and he put it out, although glancing at the man with a wide, pale stare as though not really seeing him. 

‘Yes, I suppose I do?’ Robert licked his lips, not knowing what to expect or say.

Victor met his gaze and Robert was surprised to see tears in his eyes, that he blinked back before continuing. ‘Do you think if I became Christian I would be free from my sins?’ He laughed nervously. ‘Like an inactive medicine - just a reordering of thought to correspond to...to give normal and placid living.’ 

They stared at the view in silence. The lake with the Jet D’eau rising against the clear sky. A slight breeze ruffling their hair. 

What sins, Victor? Which of your other fuck-buddies did you drown?

And yet Robert understood that he was fighting to keep control over himself. In his stoic, English fashion, although concerned for him he did not want to interfere with Victor’s thoughts. It was really not his business. But then he muttered, quietly, ‘Let’s go down. It’s hurting you.’ 

‘I’m fine,’ Victor gripped the wall in a way that suggested that he was not. ‘You’re a touriste, so look. If we go to the other side of the tower we will see the alps.’

‘Victor…’ a frightening idea came to him. ‘About this boat-’ 

‘If you’re wondering about what sins and correlating it with that - woman’s - remark about a drowned boyfriend. Don’t. I’ve never had a boyfriend.’ 

‘Then who drowned?’ 

‘An old friend. He didn't drown so much as he was murdered, it’s a cruel jibe. If I was going to drown anyone I’d drown myself.’ He stuck a cigarette back in his mouth, now that they were out of view. 

 

They spent the day visiting museums and drifting lazily on the lake. Conversation continued much as it had began the day before; with again the dissection of various philosophical systems and Robert giving away much more of himself than he ordinarily would have done. They talked Rousseau, Voltaire, revolutions and much more personal subjects, with Victor an attentive listener and sharp commentator.

‘It’s strange in the UK,’ he mused, leaning over the side of the small boat in a way that could be mistaken for absent-minded, trailing his hand in the clear water. ‘You’re always drawn back to some sort of epicentre that for us came away entirely.’ 

‘I was thinking that.’ 

‘It’s interesting. Although,’ he sat up and looked at him, with the light turning his eyes once more that alarming, silvery colour. ‘I still believe that you can’t get along the lines of Hegel without German. There’s a lot of phrases that don’t translate, a play on words. I’m surprised, when I talk to English speakers, because the understanding is so different. Not that I’ve spoken to anybody for a long time.’ He said this quietly and Robert detected vulnerability there. He slipped his hand across to Victor’s, the one now resting against the gunwhale. Victor pulled it away. 

 

Robert insisted that he cook that night. 

‘You don’t have to, don’t worry about it.’ 

‘No, you’ve taken me for food - even though that bitch kicked us out - and you’ve cooked for me, and you’ve kindly let me stay with you. It’s the least that I can do.’ He only knew how to cook one thing but he was mildly proud of it. 

He picked up on Victor’s unease but didn't give it  full consideration at that moment. 

 

After they had eaten Victor went to the toilet and remained in there an unnecessary amount of time. Robert, bouncing his leg up and down beneath the table, realised what he was doing, stopped and - realised that there was water running. 

It continued, longer than it should take one to wash their hands, and he started to become concerned. He’d read an account of something like this, some gossip magazine. Dare he know what to expect?

He went into the hall and listened carefully. He could hear retching. 

‘Victor, are you ill?’

‘If you want to call it that,’ Victor said wryly from the other side of the door. ‘Don’t worry, let me finish.’ There was the sound of retching again. 

Robert, beginning to do exactly that - worry - hesitated outside. None of my business, he told himself, but then with heart pounding he twisted the handle and went in. He found Victor crouched at the toilet bowl. 

‘Victor?’ He said gently, sitting down next to him. He put a hand on his back. ‘Don’t do that, Victor.’ and wrapping his arms around him lightly he pulled him into an embrace. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you eat-’ 

‘You didn’t. It’s just, things are complicated with this…’ he gestured, ‘thing. I don’t know, Robert.’ He could explain but he did not want to, was the impression that Robert got. 

Victor leaned back against his chest, sharp shoulders digging into him, and seemed exhausted. Reaching across, Robert  flushed the toilet and then held him. They sat like that for a moment in silence, with him stroking Victor’s hair. 

‘Can you stand? Let’s go to bed.’ 

‘Yes, I made myself throw up not suddenly disabled.’ But he put his arms around Robert in a childlike fashion. 

 

Robert watched him changing into his pyjamas, but noticed that he was shaking quite a lot. 

‘Here, let me,’ he said, gently helping him  to button up his shirt. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Victor said, ‘I havent been well these last few days.’ 

‘It’s okay.’ He ran his hands gently up and down his back. ‘Don’t apologise.’ Cuddling into him, he could feel Victor’s heart race. He was panicking. ‘Put your head against my chest, where my heart is. That’s it. Shh. We’ll lie down, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you’

Victor closed his eyes and, trembling, did as he was told. Robert took his hand and ran his fingers along Victor’s. 

‘Shh. See. Your heart is slowing down, it’s okay. It’s almost the same as mine now.’ 

‘I’m sorry, Robert.’ 

‘No, no. Don’t be. I’ve got you.’ 

He seemed to gradually relax, with Robert continuing to talk softly and distract him. 

About half an hour later Victor said, ‘Fuck, now I do actually feel sick. But I need to take the medication. Hope I don’t throw it up.’ 

‘What’s it for?’ 

‘Anxiety,’ he replied, looking over Robert’s expression somewhat defensively. ‘As you can see, I’m a mess. But I’m not mad. I don’t see and hear things that aren't there.’ 

‘I wasn't thinking that.’ 

‘You might have been. People do. Can I read to you? I usually read before bed, if you’d like we could cuddle and I’ll read and….’ he trailed off, embarrassed. 

‘I’d love to -’ 

‘Would you prefer French or English? Maybe you are too tired to concentrate on French -’

‘I’ll read to you!’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘Yeah, I would love to. And as you said, I need the practice.’ 

Victor giggled at how it sounded, as Robert began. His accent was not the best. 

‘Is there something wrong?’ He stopped, nervously. 

‘No, carry on, I really like it.’ 

‘I know my pronunciation is bad…’ 

‘And I, too, have an accent. I like yours. So continue, be assured, it’s good. It’s just that I’ve never heard it sound this way before, ha-ha.’  

They nestled into each other and Robert continued to read. It was a fictional book about a theatre company, vampires and the Pere Lachaise. Quite amusing stuff, compared to what they had been discussing earlier. He thought about the day; the boat, the tower. He also thought about Victor’s throwing up. He lay his hands gently against Victor’s stomach. 

‘Please don’t touch me there, it’s uncomfortable,' Victor said quietly.

‘Oh, okay. I’m sorry,’ Robert whispered, kissing his ear. 

 

‘It’s weird, Victor, because your eyes are ice blue and yet there’s so much warmth in them.’ 

‘Is there?’ Victor sounded tired. 

‘Yes, you’re lovely.’ Robert said, squeezing him lightly. ‘You’re unlike anyone I’ve known.’ 

Victor cuddled him back. 

‘And you’re so sad, but there is so much to you.  It’s upsetting, Victor. But you can be sad, I don’t mind. I’m here for you. Just know that no matter what I think you’re wonderful.’ 

It was cheesy, a risk of a thing to say. 

But Victor replied. ‘‘You can be sad too. You know. You’re not happy either, Robert. But I’ll look after you.’

‘We’ll look after each other, wont we?’


End file.
